


And not dead is he

by Keenir



Category: Norse Religion & Lore, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Ragnarok, very very faint past Loki/Sif that was...ugh those two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 12:04:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1186014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keenir/pseuds/Keenir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sif learns that, against all odds and prophecies, Loki survived Ragnarok.  Then...</p>
            </blockquote>





	And not dead is he

**Time: Early First Century AD:**

Sif was in her residence - as the right hand of the chief, her home was nearly the same size as his - when her door opened and her serving girl came in, dagger in the belt like Sif had taught her; "My lady, you have a visitor," the girl said.

"Who is it?" Sif asks.

"He said he is the son of your mother."

"Impossible. Bring him, that I may know who is spreading such lies," and watched the girl comply.

But the serving girl led a man into the residence, a man whom -- 'Heimdall will kill Loki who will kill Heimdall' was how the prophecy had been given - _with more flourishes, fitting, given they used Stark as a relaying vessel - and how I saw it unfolding, up until I was drawn into my own battle for survival at the end of existence._

And yet...

"Yes, brother?" Sif asked him, her voice numb with the shock.

"I bring news," Heimdall said. "More accurately, I bring a confession - my own."

Sif blinked, "You're alive," she said, already recovering.

"I am. As is Loki."

She stared at Heimdall.

"Sif -"

"You have kept this from me for how long?" she asked, her voice colder than his frozen prison had been.

"I was not certain you would be pleased at what has become of him," Heimdall said.

"Then Loki yet lives?"

"He does."

Sif drew her sword. "Then tis to Loki's house I go."

* * *

**In the Roman Empire...**

One of the servants led Sif into the central garden, surrounded on all four sides by sections of the house. Towards one horizon, a great mountain loomed ominously.

"You may have the rest of the day off," Loki told him. "Ditto all the others."

"You've done well for yourself," Sif complimented Loki as the servant left, unable to avoid seeing that Loki was not the fit lithe thing that he had been before Ragnarok; he had gained weight, more than a handful of it.

Loki answered her, "I had even more. Then I realized what I was doing - again - and I quit it." _I could have been Emperor. Or a kingmaker...again._

"Didn't give everything up, I see," Sif said, trying to make it a jest.

Loki made a sound roughly equivilent to an indifferent shrug.

"I saw Heimdall."

"Disappointed we survived, he and I?" Loki asked.

"Not at all. Intensely surprised, yes."

"I was about to die at his hand," Loki said, remembering how he himself had not been trying very hard at the time to reciprocate, _too much had happened by then; Ragnarok was a relief._ "But he spared me. And he lived too."

Looking at Loki like she wasn't even hearing half the story - _yet!_ \- "You knew I would survive," Sif says, and if it sounds like an accusation, maybe it is, just a little.

"Nothing could be less in question," Loki says.

"Then why did you not try to find me?" she asks, and if it sounds like she has found no answer thus far, that's entirely true.

"You know why."

"If that were true, I would not be here."

"I can think of a dozen reasons which would still bring you, Sif," Loki says. "Morbid curiosity, being one. An attempt to sway me, is another."

"Loki, we -"

"Always, Sif," he interupts. "Always I will end poorly."

"You handled yourself well, as I recall," Sif says.

"That is not why your brother spared me, and we both know it."

"Heimdall would not have let you survive Ragnarok if my feelings were the only reason," Sif says. _Beta Ray Bill fought valiantly against so very many, but was cut down by my brother before Heimdall turned to face you, Loki._

"You made a life for yourself on this side of Ragnarok, Sif," Loki says. "Continue on in that life. If I must be in it, let me be a memory."

"You will be in it, Loki. Or have I meant nothing to you?"

"On the contrary, you meant nearly everything to me. Those with nothing to lose, do not fall as far as I did."

"You kept running, Loki. Your 'losing' was in flight."

"I fled so swift and fleet, because there was nothing to slow for, no reason to reverse my course."

"Liar," Sif said.

"I do not deny we had delicious banter, Sif," Loki said. "I treasured each of our ripostes, in word and blade. But they were ephemeral, _mortal_ interludes." _Every time, you moved against me...and you know that as well as I do. Were each of those so utterly dependent upon you siding with Thor rather than me? Only once would a planet have died; the other times..._

"And you always prided yourself on your powers of observation...yet you failed to see."

'Always so observant about everyone but yourself,' he remembered Frigga telling him. "And what did I fail to detect?"

"If words were flesh, I would have more ragged stumps than my father Tyr," Sif says. "And I continued to reach out, couching in words I thought you would like."

_Many times, I thought I detected layers to what you were saying to me. Oft I told myself I was imagining it. Or that I was misreading what you were saying._ "Another regret on my part, then," Loki said. "And another reason to live on without me."

"Are you denying me a say in my own future?"

"I'm not denying me one."

Sif paused, realizing how it must sound to him - _that I'd have him with me, whether he wants it or not._ She came over and crouched by him. "Loki," Sif said. "This is a new chance for us both. Let us not squander it, particularly with rehashings of what is done and gone and burnt."

"Sif -"

"I don't care that you're out of shape, Loki. I don't care if you own this town or are hock-deep in debt. I would like very much for you to join me. But you're right, I shouldn't impose," and she stood up.

Or she started to.

Loki grabbed one wrist, gripping firmly.

Sif looked at him, her eyes meeting his.

"This is one time you won't be drawing back a bloody stump," Loki said.

Sif smiled. "I'm glad," she said.

"I'll join your team."

"My what?" she asked.

"You asked me to join you, which means my expertise is required for something. So I'm joining," not letting go of her wrist, his fingers enjoying the feel of being wrapped around there.

"This is a two-person team, Loki, and you're a very welcome part," Sif said, recovering, liking the feel of his fingers on her, something she hadn't felt in a long while.

**Author's Note:**

> The germ of this fic was this:  
> Sif isn't listed among the casualties of Ragnarok. But according to the Poetic Edda, Loki is. However....


End file.
